"Are you well?" Olivia asked with concern, wondering how the young girl had fared in the company of Phoenix's men.

"Um?" Maggie hummed distractedly as she stepped over to Olivia's trunks and began to sort through her clothing. "Oh, yes. Quite well. His lordship made certain of it."

The abigail came to her and easily tugged the huge shirt over her head. When the sleeve caught on the gun, Olivia set the weapon on a trunk and laid the shirt next to it. She missed the garment immediately, infused as it was with the scent of Phoenix's skin.

Maggie began to loosen the fastenings to her gown.

Looking over her shoulder, Olivia asked, "What if he should return?"

The maid chuckled. "Little chance of that happening. He's fixing the main mast."

"What?" Olivia shot a worried glance out the window. The wind continued to pick up speed. "Why didn't he delegate the task?"

"He said it was too dangerous with the wind blowing like it is."

"Good God!" Olivia headed toward the door. He could be killed. And for some odd reason, she couldn't bear to think of it.

"Milady! You cannot go out there now. Your gown…"

Olivia clutched her bodice and ran from the room. When she gained the deck, she looked up at the sky in horror. Still bare-chested, Phoenix clung to the mast, his powerful muscles bunched with exertion, his silky hair blown loose from its queue and whipping around his face. From her vantage, his large form seemed tiny, and yet he appeared at home in the turbulence. His movements were sure and efficient as he struggled against the gales, no fear evident in the expertise of his actions. In fact, no one around her seemed even remotely fearful. Her heart, however, beat a panicked rhythm, ready to burst from her chest.

She sensed the large presence that moved up to her side, and turned to look at the red-haired man she'd nearly shot earlier.